


You'll Have to Earn your Forgiveness

by wingsofanillyrian



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, NSFW, Smut, post eos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-27
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2019-04-13 12:12:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14112084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wingsofanillyrian/pseuds/wingsofanillyrian
Summary: Aelin and Rowan fight... and Rowan has to earn his keep.





	You'll Have to Earn your Forgiveness

The Queen of Terrasen stormed through the castle hallways, her king hot on her heels. Flame danced at her fingertips, a byproduct of her boiling temper. They’d left the meeting early, after Rowan had spoken against her plan to once again put herself in the line of fire.

“Aelin, wait,” he called, jogging to keep up with her. “I don’t understand why you’re always so dead set on being on the front lines!”

She flung open the doors of their bedchamber, leaving behind burned indentations in the pine wood. “I’m not dead set on potentially getting myself killed,” she spat, rounding on him once he was inside. He slammed the door behind him, towering over her as he stared her down.

“Really? Cause that’s sure as hell what it sounded like.” His eyes flashed with challenge, and hers brimmed with fire. “Yours sounded like a plan to martyr yourself; like something that would cause you to burn out in minutes.”

“I know my limits.” She harshly poked his chest, forcing him back a few inches. “I had everything under control-“

“Like you had everything under control when Maeve locked you in that coffin?”

He regretted it the moment the words passed his lips. Both were stunned into silence; Aelin’s shocked expression quickly morphed into one of killing calm.

“Wow.” Aelin laughed mirthlessly. “You really had to go there, didn’t you?”

Rowan swallowed hard. “Aelin, I’m sorry-“ He took a step forward, and she took two steps back, shaking her head. Too far. He’d pushed too far.

“Fireheart,” he rasped, reaching a hand towards her. “ _Please,_ I didn’t mean it, it just came out.”

“I can’t believe you.” Her chin jutted out, determined to be stoic even as tears built in her eyes. “After all we’ve done, everything we’ve overcome, you’d still throw that in my face?” She retreated until the backs of her knees connected with the bed, and she slunk onto it.

“It’s been two years, Rowan. I’ve been cooped up in this castle, rebuilding my kingdom, for two  _years._ Fire is in my blood, whether you and I like it or not. I can’t just sit back and watch as some good for nothing king tries to invade Eyllwe. Not when I promised to protect it.”

He moved to stand before her, slowly sinking to his knees. “I know you can’t. You wouldn’t be my Fireheart if you just stood by.” He understood why she needed to defend Eyllwe. Aelin was nothing if not true to her word.

Carefully, he took her hand in his own and pressed his lips to the back of it. “Forgive me,” he whispered against the soft skin.

“I just want to sleep.” He could hear the defeat evident in his mate’s voice, causing his instincts to kick into overdrive.

“Then we can sleep.” He kissed her hand twice more before sliding his hands down the fitted material covering her calf. He pressed his lips to her knee as he undid the laces of her boot, sliding it off and placing it to the side. Then he did the same to the other, trailing kisses along her shin when he had finished.

“Row,” his queen breathed, her shaky voice all that remained of her previous hurt. He rested his chin on her knee and turned his pine-green eyes up to her Ashryver gold and turquoise.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

“Will you forgive me?”

A tiny smile lifted the corner of her lips as her fingers tangled in his short silver hair.

“I think so.”

He nodded, inwardly relieved that she didn’t want to murder him for his comment. “Go ahead and sleep, Fireheart. I’ve got some things to look over before I join you.”

“But I’m hardly dressed for it.” She glanced pointedly down at the skin-tight suit she still wore. She insisted on wearing it to every council meeting, stating that it reminded them that she was not a force to be taken lightly.

“I can grab you something to wear.” He uncoiled to his feet and padded to the walk-in closet. “One of my shirts, or something else?” He asked, knowing that when he wasn’t lying with her, she was usually comforted by being wrapped in his scent.

“Something else.”

He leafed through the slew of nightgowns she owned. Each was distinct in its own way- lacy, beaded, short or tight. She picked each one with great care, knowing that they would all drive him wild. Flicking through a few more, he paused on his favorite.

“Do you have a preference?” He called, running his fingers over the silky fabric.

There was a beat of silence before she responded. “The gold one.”

Rowan grinned from ear to ear. The golden nightgown was precisely the one he’d been about to choose for her. He removed it from the hanger and slung it over his shoulder as he sauntered back into the room.

He stopped short when he caught sight of Aelin.

She lay reclined on the bed, the suit reduced to a heap of irritable fabric on the floor. She was bare save for her underthings, one arm thrown dramatically over her eyes.

Usually, he cursed her unpredictable mood swings. But now, he thanked whatever gods were listening for giving her them.

“I think I require some more apologies before I forgive you,” she purred, peeking up at him. His eyes flashed as he raked his gaze over the peaks of her breasts, the delicate curve of her hips. Without realizing, he licked his lips.

“I guess we won’t be needing this then.” He tossed the golden gown over his shoulder. His long legs ate up the distance between them in three powerful strides, and he made to straddle Aelin’s waist.

She stopped him with a hand to his broad chest. “Strip.”

“What?” He stared at her, brows drawing together.

“I said,  _strip.”_

Rowan growled, but did as he was told. He made sure to take his time as he unbuttoned his tunic. He slid it over his head, knowing her lust-addled gaze would be drinking in every ripple of his tanned, tattooed muscles.

“Keep going,” she cooed, biting her lip.

He unbuttoned his trousers with the same tempting slowness, eyes locked on hers. Her hand slid down her stomach, playing with the band of her underwear. Stepping out of his pants, Rowan loosed a warning growl.

“I’m sorry, do you have something you would like to say?” She batted her lashes innocently as her fingers slipped beneath the thin fabric. Her eyes flicked to his middle, where his desire was barely concealed by his boxers.

“That’s my job.”

“Oh, is it?” She gasped as her fingers found their target. The intoxicating scent of her arousal filled the chamber, fogging Rowan’s senses. Immediately, he ripped off his boxers and crawled onto the bed next to her.

“Yes.” He swallowed hard, his own hand driving to his cock. He flicked his thumb over the tip, spreading the bead of liquid. Aelin’s toes curled and she bit her lip as his moans reached her ears.

“Let me,” he begged, his lust-addled gaze locked on that devilish hand as intently as she watched his. He watched hers swirl and dip, dragging delicious gasps and moans from her lips. His eyes slid shut, every muscle in his body going rigid with desire.

“Please,” he rasped, pressing his hardened length to her thigh.

She gasped again, the nails of her free hand digging into the flesh of his upper arm. She withdrew her other hand from her center, and Rowan licked his lips at the slickness coating them.

She brought them to his lips, a sound akin to a whine leaving his throat as he took them in his mouth.  _Gods,_ she tasted divine; more heavenly than the nectar of the sweetest flower.

“Show me how sorry you are, Rowan.”

_Finally._

He swung a leg over to straddle her waist. Grinding his hips against her leg, he growled, “Does that show you?”

“Oh yes.” She nodded, her hands roaming the planes of her warrior’s stomach. “It does. But I still haven’t forgiven you.”

His wicked grin flashed his canines.

“By the end of the night,” he promised, rolling his hips against her core, “you will.”

*************

He wasn’t wrong. When the lovers joined Aedion and Lysandra for breakfast the following morning, Aelin’s cousin was pale as a ghost. Lysandra, on the other hand, calmly sipped her tea, eyes the couple’s disheveled hair and clothes.

“And you say  _I’m_ the animal.”


End file.
